Scout's Father
by TheProofIsInTheSloth
Summary: Basically just my version of how Spy is Scout's dad.


This is just my take on the idea of Spy being Scout's dad. I really like the idea of the two of them being related somehow and Valve hints at it as much as they do Pyro's gender, but I always questioned how a father and a son could end up acting like strangers to each other and then fight as enemies on the battlefield. Also, I didn't want to just make up a name for Scout, so I decided to refer to him as Scout and think of it as a sort of nickname he happened to carry into battle. So please, enjoy.

As Spy's conscious slipped away slowly, the pain and the tingling sensation left him and was replaced with memories swarming through his masked head like bees in a hive. He was starting to lose touch with what was a memory, a hallucination, or what was actually happening to him at the moment. A scene began to play out in his mind. At first, it was just random bursts of what he finally labeled as a memory, but eventually he felt like he was there again, fifteen years ago in Massachusetts.

He was lying in bed, his lover lying beside him, deep in sleep. He removed the covers from himself carefully, his stealth skills coming in handy when it came to not waking up _Mademoiselle _when he got out of bed. Spy grabbed the balaclava on the nightstand and pulled it on, he was too tired to put his usual care into flattening his hair into it perfectly and making sure it aligned with his face just so. No, he was too tired to do anything, but he couldn't sleep. He was too stressed.

He stood up and walked to the bedroom door and through the house, stopping at the patio door and sliding it open, just enough for him to squeeze through. Spy sat down, his feet He looked around at the city lights he could see through the breaks in the fence. He didn't care for this place in the least, but it was the place where his loved ones were, so he stayed there as much as he could. He'd always miss France. He watched the water in the pool lapping slowly in the dim light. Spy sighed, he was too deep in thought to notice his son watching him through the window.

"Dad?" At the childlike voice and the quiet grinding of the door, Spy jerked around, holding his arms up instinctively. He'd been in his job far too long to stop expecting everything to be an enemy when he was off the battlefield. When he saw it was his own son, he relaxed and stood up.

"Scout? What are you doing up so late?" Spy asked, but Scout didn't answer for a second. His head drooped and he blushed. "I-I had a bad dream. I'm not scared or nuthin'... It just woke me up, is all."

Spy held back a smile. Ever since a few boys at school had made fun of Scout for being a, "sissy", he'd taken extra precaution to make sure everyone knew how brave and manly he was. "What was it about?" Spy asked in kind tone, something unusual for him. Scout sniffled lightly.

"It was about those bad men you were telling Ma about. The ones with guns who were after you. That's why you weren't home last week, right?" Scout started and Spy cursed himself out in his head for being so careless. He'd been in such a rush, such a panic, he hadn't even checked to make sure Scout wasn't listening. A mission had... gone bad and the men he was working against were after him. They'd almost caught him, but he'd escaped just in time to warn _Mademoiselle. _He nodded and waited for Scout to continue.

"They... They came and they hurt you and Ma and I didn't know what to do." Scout was almost crying. He was eight, by the time Spy was eight, he'd watched his parents die and had killed the man who'd done it. He had taken special precautions to make sure Scout didn't have that sort of childhood, that sort of life. He wanted Scout to do something safe when he grew up, not kill people and lie like Spy did because of the things he'd been exposed to at a young age. And yet, despite his efforts, here was his son on the verge of tears because of nightmares about the men after his father.

Spy kneeled down and pulled the small boy into a hug. "It's all right, Scout. I assure that they won't hurt you or your mother." Scout sniffed back his tears.

"Promise no one's gonna hurt you, either?" He asked. Spy froze. There was no way he could promise that. He'd most likely die in a puddle of his own blood at the hand of someone he'd betrayed; He was threatened at gun or knife-point nearly every week. But lying was part of Spy's life, so he answered, "I promise no one will harm any of us."

Unfortunately, he'd been wrong. The next day, he left for Europe again, leaving his family behind and attempting to fix the things that had gone wrong in the last mission. He killed a man, seduced his secretary, brought down a company, and then escaped via a stolen helicopter with the company's money. Not a month later, he returned home to find the door ajar in the middle of the night.

The cars were still there and the door had been forced open. He knew what had happened. "_Merde!_" He muttered under his breath and silently entered the house, finding signs of a struggle. "Where is he!?" A gruff voice with a familiar accent nearly shouted from the other room.

"G-Gone, I-I don't know, al'right? Now let go of my son, or I'll-" He heard the ever-defiant voice of _Mademoiselle _echoing from the room as well. He ran in, brandishing his revolver at the man holding Scout.

"Let go of the boy. If it is me you want, then fight me, don't grab children and women like a coward!" Spy spat, aiming directly between the other man's eyes. It was the brother of the man he had killed. He could tell easily from the pictures in the other man's office. His name was Robert Eldago and his brother had been the richest man in Spain. Spy had forgotten about his American brother. Robert turned around and dropped Scout flat on his butt. Scout scrambled towards his mother, who was breathing heavily and watching Spy with worried eyes.

"Coward? You should not speak of cowardice, you fraud! My brother trusted you, and then you stabbed him in the back and not in the figurative sense!" Robert drew a gun from somewhere on his body and aimed it at Scout's mother.

"No!" Spy shouted, against his instincts and better judgment. "Drop the gun." Robert said in a dangerous tone, his eyes locked with Spy's. Spy knew that if he let go of his weapon, Robert would just shoot them all anyway. "No." He repeated. Robert narrowed his eyes and shifted his aim to Scout. Spy's eyes widened and this time it was his lover's turn to shout, "No!"

Spy clenched his fist and placed his revolver on the floor, his gaze flicking between his family and Robert. "You killed my brother, you disgusting liar!" In one stride, Robert grabbed Spy by his expensive tie and threw him against the wall. Spy barely flinched. He'd been in worse situations before... but never had his family been involved or witnessed. "You backstabbing frog!" Robert hit Spy across the face with his gun. Spy crumpled to the floor, still awake, blood pouring from his nose. "You killed my brother!" Robert kicked Spy, but he just smirked.

"Yes, I have heard many times now." He said sarcastically, which proved to be the last straw for Robert, who took aim right between Spy's eyes and shot.

The loud bang echoed through the whole street and the police were called by the neighbors. Spy glanced around in shock, wondering how he was still alive. He put a finger to his forehead, as if to feel for a bullet hole. There was no injury. He grabbed the gun from Robert aimed it at the other man's head and shot him point-blank. Then he heard screaming from Scout's mother and turned around, to finally see why the bullet hadn't killed him.

Scout was lying, unmoving, blood dripping quickly from a wound on his shoulder. "Scout!" Spy yelled, rushing towards the boy. Scout had jumped in front of a bullet for him.

The police came with an ambulance and rushed Scout away. When he woke up, he didn't remember much. Nothing about the night, and the doctor said everything would be kind of fuzzy for him. Spy had the horrifying realization that this was his one and only chance to keep Scout and his mother safe. He'd leave them and come back when the time was right. If that time ever came. Scout would forget him, he was gone most of the time, anyway. Scout's mother... well, the _mademoiselle _ would have a tougher time with it, but she would live. She'd lived through her first husband's death. (along with Scout's brothers who were now grown.)

Spy ducked into Scout's hospital room invisibly and watched him for a moment before muttering a few undistinguishable French words under his breath in a loving tone. He explained what he had to do to _Mademoiselle _and being the woman she was, she didn't cry or fight back. She just smirked, "We'll see each other again sometime. I know we will. Try to come back before he's all grown up and stops calling me Ma." She said in a casual tone that was underlined with sadness.

The memories faded away too quickly, leaving Spy confused as to where he was and what was happening. The first thing he saw was a pair of eyes he recognized without doubt and for a moment wondered if the memories hadn't been a mere hallucination as he slipped out of his consciousness, but the comforting thought soon left him when another sharp stab of pain hit into his side.

Those blue eyes weren't happy, or sad, or even questioning. No, they were filled with hate. The kind of bloody, twisted, forced hated you only see on the battlefield. The eyes belonged to his only son and so did the baseball bat that had just hit him over the head enough to knock him out for a spell. "Man, Engie told me there was a Spy sappin' his crap, he didn't tell me you _sucked!_" Scout laughed at his own lame joke. Spy winced and started to stand up, hoping to pull out his revolver, but Scout kicked him down, hitting his aluminum bat against Spy's left knee for good measure. Spy didn't cry out, but Scout talked anyway.

"Say good-bye to your knee caps, pal. Yo, what's wrong, you gonna cry?"

Scout laughed even harder, grabbing spy by his tie like Robert had done and smirked, like his mother. Spy could kill him right then and there. He had a knife hidden in his sleeve, he could stab Scout and run. Normally, he would have done it without hesitation, but this was his son. Yeah, sure, he respawned, but it was still... killing him, wasn't it?

The young man in front of him was no longer a child with bad dreams. He was a soldier who fought with guns and bombs and men with blood-spattered histories. But he was still strong, confident, and smart enough to be like his mother. Unfortunately, the only thing he seemed to have adopted from Spy was his cruelty. But Spy was glad he was having his head beat in, rather than Scout's because he wasn't strong enough to leave them.

"I would not talk about crying, Scout. You start sobbing every time you see a rainbow, no?" Spy finally hissed back. Scout narrowed his eyes in fury.

"Y'know, I'm not even winded right now and lookit you. You can't even fricking stand up, because _oh yeah, that's right_, I broke your knee!" His Boston accent was still exactly the same.

"Well, zhen, just finish me off, or does it really take zhe _Mighty Virgin Scout _all day to kill someone he has cornered?" Spy was getting restless, he wanted out. This was too much for him. He'd just go to respawn. Scout reached into his bag and pulled out his pistol, aiming it straight at Spy's face. Spy didn't even flinch, which bothered him. He smiled, it would be his first kill of the day. But right as he put his finger on the trigger, the smile melted off slowly. He couldn't do it.

Never in a million years would Scout ever admit it, but he had an imaginary friend when he was little. He never thought he was imaginary, but that's what his mom told him, so he believed her. The imaginary friend had been a thin man who wore a funny mask and a suit and he used to tell Scout it was okay when he had nightmares. Funny coincidence maybe that the slimy backstabber seemed so similar to him, but it was enough to stop him. He bit his lip, and put the gun back in his bag.

"Nah. Unlike you, I've got some pride in what I do. I kill people when they're fightin' me, not when they're down on the floor. Expect to see me over your dead body, later." With that excuse, he ran off, leaving the older French man to himself in the tunnel.


End file.
